Speak (& Other Stories)
by snarkvenger
Summary: I. "Speak". Caryl. II. "Ain't Losin' You". Rickyl. {A drabble collection.}
1. Speak

******Disclaimer: **I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters or story lines.

A request from somebody on my Merle Dixon RP blog. I'll either extend this into a collection of specifically Caryl drabbles, or a collection of general TWD drabbles. More than likely it will be general TWD. But we'll see! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

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His words were rarely spoken; if he could, he'd paint on them on every wall, build lofty monuments with the odds and ends of every adjective that sprang to his tongue when she caught his eye. He could construct grand cathedrals with his metaphors and support the roofs with pillars of preposition. As it was, he could hardly find a way to get the words off his stubborn tongue.

Instead, he spoke in touches—calloused fingers ghosting over the smooth backs of her hands, the closeness that used to frighten him, bumping his sturdy chest against her narrow shoulder. Her own words filled the spaces in between. Her soft voice, lilting as she teased, never meaning harm. She always had the words and always knew how and when to say them. She knew how to get the corners of his mouth to tug up into a tight grin and then she'd return those simple touches—a hand on his shoulder, a slight shove against his chest—and a million more words would spring into his head.

They built up inside him; buzzed in his chest and danced on the tip of tongue, but he always stumbled and faltered when he opened his mouth to speak. When he kissed her, though, he thought they might escape his mouth and fall into hers. Chapped lips, eager for her, tongue desperate to taste, and words unspoken gifted through breathy gasps. He breathed her breath and her, his, and when he pulled away with eyes downcast, doubtful and unsure, her light laughter brightened his thoughts.

"Some way with words you've got," Carol teased. Daryl merely smiled, shy eyes dipping towards the floor before squinting back up to meet hers. A little encouragement that urged him farther and farther with every stolen kiss. Those little, breathless laughs that quieted his hammering heart so that his hands, rough and worn, might feel free to roam the soft and tender flesh of her body. She knew that every kiss was a gentle compliment, that his wandering hands were peppering her with admiration, and that every breath had hidden in it some thoughtful word that just couldn't fight its way off of his tongue.

And he knew that she understood. She gladly took the reins, spoke words that gave him confidence to touch, to feel, to know her in the ways that she already seemed to know him.


	2. Ain't Losin' You

******Disclaimer: **I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters or story lines.

Alrighty, I've decided that this collection will be general TWD! This is an older drabble also based on a request from someone on Tumblr. Enjoy!

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The world spun in haphazard circles, the ground tilting beneath his feet. He stumbled on that slanted surface hearing nothing but the slow pulsing of his own blood in his ears. There was something wet and sticky and warm on his side. He felt lightheaded, disoriented, lost, and unaware of his own clumsy fumbling he tripped and pitched to the side.

The whole world seem to fall away, replaced with an endless abyss of blackness and fog. He was floating in the space between wakefulness and sleep, wondering if such sleep would claim him for good, when strong arms closed around him, supported him and, slowly, he registered a voice.

"You ain't dyin' on me, ya hear?!"

Rick blinked a few times in an attempt to focus his wild vision. He gasped when a heavy pressure was applied to his side, all that warmth trapped underneath it. He blindly grabbed at the wrist that held him hoping that it might tether him to this reality.

"I ain't losin' you." The voice was softer. He felt hair brush against his temple, hot breath beside his ear as Daryl bent his head toward Rick's. His tense body relaxed against Daryl's stone-strong chest. "I ain't losin' you," Daryl repeated, words a hushed whisper meant for only Rick's ears. With all the strength Rick could muster he squeezed Daryl's wrist.

"No," he replied, voice low and strained, painful and cracked. He swallowed thickly and repeated, "No. You ain't losin' me."

At Rick's words, Daryl seemed to breath a sigh of relief. He held Rick tighter, nodded his head. "Good."


End file.
